


Tincture

by hungryvulture



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Gen, Platonic Cuddling, Yes you read that right, coriander - Freeform, other characters but claude is the star of the show here, sedatives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 20:00:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21433870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hungryvulture/pseuds/hungryvulture
Summary: Claude decides to take on a new project and finds a use for it sooner than he expected. Based on this piece of art for Whumptober: https://twitter.com/guessibetter/status/1186133835391602688?s=20  Thank you so much to Cosu for letting me write something based on their art!
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Tincture

**Author's Note:**

> A quick warning about the content- nothing dubious happens, but some characters are drugged without their knowledge. It's done with the best of intentions and nothing serious happens to them, but if that makes you uncomfortable, it's okay to not want to read.
> 
> Comments and suggestions are welcome and appreciated!

Claude had been more nervous than he had ever been when he first scribbled down his frantic ideas to piece together some sort of plan. At the time, he was desperate to turn the tides in his favor to escape the violence and fear snapping at his heels like a pack of rabid wolves, and that meant trying anything. Something clever enough to keep a child like him safe but simple enough so he wouldn't get caught. The cogs in his young mind had turned tirelessly, keeping him up for hours past sunset as he devised plans to thwart those who would seek to hurt him. Traps came to mind at first, but those had a limited use. The harm they caused was readily apparent to any who got caught in them. What Claude desired was something more subtle. As much as he wanted the bullies to get caught up in nets and snares, he knew that an outright attack would not be enough to help him get his way. It would do more harm than good. Instead, he waited. He suffered every abuse, physical and verbal, that his enemies threw at him without making a complaint. His sharp mind picked apart their every action to find the motives hidden within and secrets that they didn't even know about themselves. Claude had become a better detective than most adults, though he didn't let that fact go to his head.

Well, maybe a little bit. But not enough to hinder his work. After learning to perfectly navigate the twists and turns of the psyches of others, he decided that he wanted to go even further. Snares and ropes were tough to break out of, but what if the trap came from inside? What kinds of substances could he sneak into others to disarm them? Apothecaries made powerful medicines from what seemed like nothing, so it must be possible to create poisons in the same way. He collected every herb and wild berry he could find, researching their effects and uses and noting them down for future reference. The only plants he refused to touch were the ones that, in high enough doses, could kill or otherwise severely harm a human being. He may have been a schemer, but the thought of killing someone in such a cowardly manner shook him to his core. Instead, he worked on mild poisons that would cause some sort of illness like stomachaches, sore throats, dizziness, and drowsiness. Whenever he was unsure about the effects of one of his special creations, he would slip it into the food of an unsuspecting adult and wait for them to begin to feel ill. Over the years, he had created and tested so many different kinds of poison that he had memorized most of the formulas. His sleight of hand rivaled that of the most talented pickpockets. 

Years had passed since the day when Claude had finally decided to defend himself in the only way that seemed possible. Since then, he had become skilled with all manner of weapons, especially bows, and had grown into a powerful and respected man. Fewer poisons were needed for negotiation and strategy, but he kept a few around just in case they were needed. He would love to lace a stuck-up nobleman's soup with stomach poison to humble them a bit. Unfortunately, diplomacy called for civility and civility called for not poisoning those who he was supposed to work with, no matter how annoying they were. Even so, there was no harm in doing research and preparing for possible threats.

As much as he hated to think about it, the church and the archbishop were powerful enough to disturb the peace in Fodlan, whether intentionally or not. They had already drastically changed the course of history multiple times, for better or for worse. The archbishop especially was a dangerous woman, if she could even be called a woman. She had transformed into a massive dragon before his very eyes and took out waves of soldiers with her breath alone. She had power, influence, and secrets that no one dared ask about if they didn't want to be accused of heresy. The Professor himself was clearly a product of Rhea’s experiments. The goddess only knows how that could have gone wrong had Rhea made a mistake or had the professor chosen a different path. Rhea was unstable. Her devotion to the Seiros religion came forth in her violent rage against anyone who threatened the church, as Claude had witnessed when Edelgard started the war. 

Claude prayed that the archbishop and the church would never become a threat to peace, but he needed insurance. Rhea had been taken down by multiple demonic beasts, though those were a cruel and inhumane option. If she needed to be subdued, Claude would have to figure out a "gentler" solution that would cause less collateral damage. Thus, he turned to poisons. 

It wouldn't do just to give the archbishop an illness or even to kill her. Even if she went out of her mind, she was still a very important figure across the continent. She would have to be subdued but alive to keep the people from panicking. But how to subdue someone who could turn into a dragon? Where did that power even come from? The most likely answer seemed to be from her crest. As Seiros, she was the original bearer of the crest of Seiros and had access to its full power, though it was debatable as to whether or not a crest could turn someone into a dragon. Dragon blood was dragon blood, however, and that was where crests came from. All he had to do was create a mixture that would work to suppress the qualities of dragon blood. It sounded simple in his head, but he had never heard of a substance that would work in the way he wanted it to. As far as he knew, there was only one person who could help him get what he wanted, and he knew just where to find him.

The trees surrounding the monastery swayed in the wind, blocking any strong winds from blowing in but allowing a refreshing breeze to pass through the area. It was almost like magic. Perhaps it was, Claude thought to himself, though it was more likely the clever architecture. Gods forbid someone remove those trees- paperwork would be practically throwing itself off the rocky cliffs. So many things had changed since the start of the war, but so much had stayed the same, too. The fishing pond was calm and clear, the scent of damp earth wafted out of the greenhouse, and the dining hall was bustling with cooks and diners alike. He thought back to his academy days, where everything had been so much simpler. Not simple in the slightest, but a lot less complicated than his current life. If only he could take just one day to go back in time and enjoy being a teenager again.

Claude wouldn't allow himself to reminisce. With a sigh, he reminded himself that he had work to do and quickened his steps to break out of his casual pace. He smiled at the people he passed, but he put very little thought into it. He had practised so much that even his laziest smile seemed genuine. Many of the acolytes and staff greeted him cheerfully- even though times were tough, Claude was a ray of sunshine that they could not ignore. Despite all the smiles, waves, and hello's, Claude made his way to the second floor in record time. It was only when he was standing outside of Hanneman's door that he realized how fast he had gone. He cringed at the thought of seeming like he was in a hurry. Giving away any clue into his business made him nervous, since he never knew who could be watching at any given time. 

Claude knocked on the heavy wooden door, the sound muffled slightly by his leather glove. Within moments, the door opened.

"Claude! It's good to see you," Hanneman said.

"Professor Hanneman. I just wanted to come by and get your opinion on something, but I'm happy to see you, as well," Claude replied, smiling. 

Truly, he was. Hanneman was a trustworthy man and Claude had good memories of his instruction. He may not have always been the best student, but Hanneman was patient enough for the two of them to cooperate.

"Please, come in. Have a seat." Hanneman stood aside to let Claude into his office, then shut the door. Claude pulled up a chair in front of Hanneman's desk and the two of them sat down- Claude folding his hands politely in his lap and Hanneman clasping his hands together on the desk. "What do you need to ask me about?"

"It's about Crests." Hanneman's eyes sparkled with excitement. This would be pretty easy, Claude thought. "Everyone knows about the benefits of crests, but in your research, have you ever stumbled upon any weaknesses?"

"Hmm... Besides their impact on societal structures, I have encountered very few downsides to having a crest. There is the Crest of Blayddid, which has a tendency to break weapons more easily, but I don't think that is what you're asking for." Hanneman opened up a drawer in his desk and took out a leather bound notebook. He flipped through the pages, adjusting his monocle as he scanned his notes.

"No, I've seen how clumsy Dimitri can be. I was thinking of something more..." Claude leaned back in his chair and wracked his brain. "You know how milk makes some people sick but it's fine for others?"

Hanneman tapped his chin for a moment. "Yes, I think I understand what you're talking about. There is no clear link between lactose intolerance and Crests that I have found, but there is something else." He opened up a drawer in his desk and took out a small glass bottle filled with a little plant with thin green stems and feathery leaves.

"Is that... coriander?" Claude wrinkled his nose, even though he couldn't detect the distinct soapy smell.

"Yes. I see from your reaction that you're familiar with the scent." Hanneman's fingers hovered over the cork of the bottle and Claude flinched, making Hanneman laugh. "Don't worry, I won't open it. I hate the smell, too. It seems that all Crest bearers can't stand the taste and smell of coriander, but those without Crests don't mind it at all. That is why it's so popular for seasoning."

"I've been wondering that since I was a kid," Claude mused. "No one else but me seemed to mind it."

"That further proves my point. It won't make anyone sick, but the smell is enough to turn my stomach." Hanneman dropped the bottle back into the drawer and shut it tightly. "I'd rather not keep a sample in here, but we all must make sacrifices for science. I hope I was able to answer your question, although I'm afraid it might be a little disappointing."

Claude was more confused than disappointed. What the hell was he supposed to do with coriander? Was it really the only thing that affected Crests specifically? Surely there were more in the world, but he didn't have the time to set out into the wilderness of the world to find a special plant or mineral or whatever. This was all he had at the moment, and he would have to take it.

"This is perfect," Claude said, smiling. "You've been a great help, Professor."

"I must say, I'm curious about what you plan to do with this information."

"I'm working on a... personal project. Just a little of my own research."

"I see. You needn't say anything else. It was a pleasure to speak with you, Claude." Hanneman stood up and shook his hand warmly.

"I'm happy I came to visit. If I find out anything interesting, you'll be the first to know." Claude returned his chair to its former position in the room.

"I'll hold you to that!" Hanneman called out as soon as Claude turned to leave. Claude looked back and smiled again at his old instructor before shutting the door behind him.

He made a beeline to the greenhouse, too distracted by the gears turning in his head to think about going anywhere else. He entered the hot, humid building and scanned the rows of plants for the little feathery leaves that characterized the pungent herb. It grew just underneath the giant carnivorous flower that smelled like rotting meat- the Goddess only knows why that thing was kept there. Claude got the permission of the gardener to dig one of the little plants up by the roots to take back to his room. If it were anything else, he would take a clipping, but he didn't want to cut it and release its unbearable stench. The faint smell was already making his eyes water. He bent down and pulled up one of the plants, cupping the dirt-covered roots with a gloved hand before wrapping them up in a small piece of leather. Easy enough. This whole ordeal had taken a lot less time than he had expected it to. Hanneman was prone to rambling, but he had been surprisingly pithy this time. His appreciation for Claude's anxiety to continue his research must have been what kept him from talking.

With coriander in hand, his mind working overtime, and the sun at its peak, Claude made his way back to his room.

Alone, coriander was just a regular herb that certain people didn't like. None of his alchemy texts mentioned it having any use. He had pretty much forgotten it existed until Hanneman brought it up. If this was all there was, he had a long way to go.

The benefit of alchemy was that it was much like cooking. Alone, a mixture of eggs, flour, butter, sugar, and baking powder would be sweet-tasting slop. Once you threw them in an oven, however, they became a cake. Beyond the physical properties, chemical properties could be changed as well. The easiest poisons could be made with one toxic ingredient. The fun ones required measuring out exact amounts of mushrooms, herbs, minerals, and whatever else the recipe required to create something entirely new. It was easy to make a stomach poison that took effect almost immediately, but it took a lot more effort to make a poison that would lay dormant for days before taking effect. Coriander's simple effects could be expanded upon if Claude could just find the right ingredients. Why would he doubt himself? There was no formula that he couldn't crack, given enough time. Perhaps it was just the shock that coriander of all things was his jumping off point.

As soon as Claude got back, he shut himself in and got to work. After his last project, he had tidied his little room up until everything was more organized than a library. All of that was ruined as he pulled out several books and stacked them on the desk. His notebooks were strewn about the room in his quest for any clue on how he should start. The little white rat he kept in a cage perked its little head up and watched him rush around like a madman. He would usually test what he made on himself, but in situations like this where he had to make sure it wouldn't work on someone who wasn't him, he would give a little to the rat, affectionately named "Lorenz". Lorenz would be going through quite a bit this time.

First, Claude offered Lorenz a bit of the coriander to eat to make sure he wasn't averse to it. When it was mixed in with his regular food, the rat didn't seem to mind at all. Claude was displeased with the smell, but Lorenz just kept munching happily. It was as if he could tell that plenty of treats were coming his way as payment for his work. The first mixture Claude gave him was a regular sedative with coriander substituted for one of the base herbs. Lorenz dug into a slice of apple slathered in the sedative and passed out nearly immediately. He woke up fine, though Claude was disappointed that he had fallen asleep at all. It wouldn't be fair for Claude to feed Lorenz more than one sedative a day, so he decided to put off other recipes for the next day. Besides, Lorenz would grow way too fat if he had so many treats!

For weeks afterwards, Claude tweaked the recipe over and over again. His progress was slower than he would have liked because he tried his best to make it as comfortable as possible for Lorenz. He may have been a schemer, but he wouldn't hurt a living thing if he could help it. While Claude was stressed about his work, Lorenz was the happiest rat in the world. He didn't care about the sedative on the pieces of fruit that Claude gave to him. So what if he fell asleep? He had never gotten so many treats in his little rat life! He soon learned to brace himself to pass out soon after he ate his treat, so most of the time he ate them in a big, soft pile of sawdust. Claude didn't seem to notice how much his rat was enjoying the experiments, as he kept wringing his hands over Lorenz's condition. No matter what he tried, the sedatives kept working on the rat. There were only so many things he could change until it didn't work as a sedative anymore. He was sick and tired of the smell of coriander. This project was so ambitious, he was tempted to give up and accept that it was impossible.

One day, Claude was absentmindedly grinding up coriander with a mushroom that he typically would pair with another herb to create a sedative compound. He was at his limit, and at that point he was trying just about anything that had a sliver of a chance of working. He let the ingredients dissolve in oil and put them over a little fire to thicken, while he didn't bother to check it. He sat down with a book and read a few chapters before he heard a loud POP! and a puff of red smoke billowed off of the mixture. He put out the burner and waved away the smoke as well as he could, but it just kept coming. The entire room was filled before he could open up the window. He bent down to pick up a paper fan that he kept in his desk and his knees immediately gave out. He hit the hard wooden floor with a heavy thud, groaning in pain and confusion. Try as he might, he couldn't even gather the strength to roll over. Though his vision was blurry, he could see Lorenz standing up in his cage, whiskers twitching, and staring down at him as if he was worried. 

"'m okay," Claude slurred, attempting to raise his hand to reassure the rat before everything went dark.

* * *

_ ...hey… _

_ What? _

_ ...hey...! _

_ Quit it, I'm tired… _

_ You shouldn't be asleep on the floor! _

_ Ugh. _

"Get up, Claude! What happened?"

A loud voice and what felt like an earthquake jolted Claude out of his sleep. His eyes snapped open and all he could see was bright pink.

"You don't have to keep shaking me, Hilda," he muttered.

"I'll keep shaking you until you get up! How did you end up like this? Were you attacked?" Hilda gripped Claude's sleeve so hard he was afraid it might tear.

"Just let go, already. I'm fine..." Hilda yanked Claude to his feet with her monstrous strength and sat him down in a chair. "I don't think I was attacked. Let me try and remember."

Hilda sighed and leaned up against the desk. Her hand bumped into the pot that had been smoking so badly. 

"Ugh, what is this stuff? Did you test something on yourself again? I got you the rat for a reason!" Hilda scolded. She picked up the pot and sniffed it before putting it down right after. "Goddess, that's strong! I'm already feeling a little dizzy, and I only sniffed it. How much did you take?"

"None," Claude muttered, rubbing the sides of his head. "I left it on the fire too long and it started to smoke. I guess that was what knocked me out."

"Wouldn't the rat be out too if there was smoke in here? Or did you stick your whole face into the smoke?" 

"The rat?" Claude perked up. "The rat is awake?" He jumped from his seat, almost falling down as he stood over the rat's cage. The rat was strolling around its cage, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. "Does that mean it worked?!"

"Why would this thing affect you and not the rat?" Hilda held her nose and looked down into the pot again. "It looks like... some kind of weird pottery glaze."

Claude explained everything to her- Rhea, visiting Hanneman, the coriander, and how bad he felt for experimenting on Lorenz. Hilda stared at him blankly.

"Coriander. You mean that plant that smells like gross soap? That's the secret ingredient?"

"I know it's not easy to believe, but we have the proof right here." Claude tapped on the rim of the pot, grinning. "All I need to do is replicate the recipe and I'll be set."

"Please do it in a room with better ventilation," Hilda sighed. "Who knows how long you would have been sleeping if I hadn't come to get you."

"I would have woken up eventually."

Hilda and Claude's conversation was cut short by a loud shout coming from outside.

"Look! Everyone come look! He’s alive!" a voice screamed.

Claude and Hilda burst from his bedroom, flying down the stairs so quickly that they nearly fell. They followed the ever-increasing crowd hurrying towards the marketplace where the gates were thrown wide open. Hordes of people were lined up on either side of the path, no one daring to cross into the middle. They moved aside as Claude and Hilda came through so they could look down the middle. There, the reason for the clamor was walking through the market, escorted by his vassal. 

Dimitri was alive. Battered, limping, and staring at his feet, but alive. The only reason he was walking was because he was leaning heavily against Dedue. Dedue locked eyes with Claude and urged Dimitri forward. The crowd backed up as the two monarchs stood face to face for the first time since Gronder. Claude had no time to gawk at the ruined man who stood in front of him.

"We will answer your questions later. For now, he needs to go to the infirmary," Dedue urged. His normally stony face was softened by his furrowed brow and a sorrowful look in his eyes. He appeared to be grieving. For what, Claude couldn't tell.

Claude wasted no time. He put Dimitri's free arm over his shoulders and supported his weight as he and Dedue escorted him to the infirmary. Dimitri growled whenever his weight shifted too much to one side. Going up the stairs was an ordeal, with him hissing and groaning with every step they went up. Finally, they made it to the infirmary and set him down gently on one of the beds, in front of a very surprised Manuela.

“Goddess… I never thought I would see you again,” she said with a pained smile. “Seeing you like this is better than finding you dead, I suppose.”

Dedue tensed up a little at that.

“Don’t worry.” Manuela noticed the slight change in Dedue’s posture. “He’ll be okay as soon as we can get off his armor so I can heal him.” She reached over Dimitri to remove his cloak, but he sat up and glared at her, baring his teeth. “Oh, don’t be like that,” she grumbled, unclasping the front of his cloak.

Dimitri swatted her hands away with a grunt. “Don’t touch me!”

“I have to touch you to heal you! Now stay still!”

Manuela’s hands shot out to grab Dimitri’s clothes. He rolled out of bed and the whole room shook when he hit the floor. Breathing heavily, he writhed and wiggled his way to the other bed so he could pull himself up into a standing position.

“Your Highness, this is unacceptable!” Dedue shouted, and the whole room went quiet. Manuela stood frozen, one hand reaching for Dimitri. “You are acting like a child. I know you’re better than this.  _ You  _ know you’re better than this. If you die of infection because you refuse to take off your armor, then all of this would have been for nothing.”

The sudden outburst left Dimitri in stunned silence. His knees wobbled, and he let himself fall back onto the bed. His stare, or perhaps just the outburst itself, left Dedue surprised and embarrassed. He slowly shuffled closer to the door, keeping his eyes down to avoid looking at anyone.

“I apologize,” he muttered. “I will… I will return once I have collected myself.” With that, he hurried down the hallway.

“Damn it!” Dimitri yelled, slamming his fist down on the bedside table, which would have broken if he had not been in such a poor condition. “He’s wrong… This is all I am. I can’t bring myself to care.” Claude could have sworn he saw a glimmer of tears in Dimitri’s eyes, but nothing spilled out. 

“Claude, if I could speak to you outside for a moment…” Manuela put her hand on Claude’s shoulder and ushered him out of the room. “There’s nothing we can do for now. He’s… he’s out of his mind. If we force him to comply, then he’s going to seriously hurt himself, or one of us.”

“Is there enough time to let him calm down?” he asked.

“No. Dedue was right- infection will set in, if it hasn’t already. Infection is much more difficult to heal than a flesh wound. If it were any other patient, I would have someone hold them down, but Dimitri is inhumanly strong.”

Claude peeked through the open door of the infirmary and quietly stared at Dimitri. He had his hands clenched, his knuckles white from the pressure. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, as if they were seeing nothing at all. Right then, he seemed calm in the way a sleeping bear seemed calm. One wrong move, the sight of someone getting too close or getting in his way, would set him off.  _ He must be so lonely,  _ Claude thought to himself. Nothing good comes from driving everyone away, even if you can’t stand their company. On the other hand, how humiliating it must be to be set upon by people who insist on touching you despite your protests! If only they could clean him while he was asleep so he wouldn’t stress himself out so badly.

Oh, duh.

“I know exactly what we need. Wait just a moment.” Claude dashed to his room to pick up the tincture he had so quickly left behind when Dimitri had shown up. What luck that he had been able to finish it today, like it was somehow predetermined. The pot sat right where he left it, undisturbed and still looking red and shiny. Hilda was right about it looking like glazed pottery- he had never created something with that color before. She had only sniffed it, and said it made her dizzy. Was it really that strong? Claude bent over the pot, took a deep breath, and nearly doubled over as it made his head swim. It wouldn’t take much to knock Dimitri out cold, like Claude had been when it started to smoke. Strangely, it didn’t smell like coriander at all. The smell must have burned off. Smell or no, Dimitri wouldn’t drink a strange liquid unless it was hidden in something else.

A sound of a door shutting came in from the hall. Claude opened his door and spotted Dedue as he was walking by.

“Dedue. Just the man I need.”

Dedue looked surprised at hearing Claude’s voice, as if he had been lost in his own thoughts. “Sorry… What is it?”

Claude paused, analyzing the look on his face. Dedue didn’t exactly look happy most of the time, though he usually didn’t look so downcast. What was it that he was feeling? Grief, regret, disappointment, or a mixture of all three? “I know a way to calm Dimitri down, but I need to know what his favorite tea is.”

Dedue’s brow became more furrowed. “With all due respect, I do not think that tea time will calm him down enough to let us heal him.”

“The tea alone might not, but I plan to put something extra in it.”

“You’re planning on drugging him?”

“Well… yes. Look, I know how much you care about him, but I promise-”

“No, I am not protesting.” Dedue shook his head. “I know how far gone he is. We don’t have many options left.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Dedue. We can help him with more than just the physical wounds, and it all starts with this.”

Dedue rubbed his eye with his palm. Claude could swear that there were tears welling up, but he let none of them out, just like his liege. "Thank you, Claude. I apologize for how I acted earlier. Everything that has happened has taken a toll on me, as well."

"You don't need to apologize. You should scold him more often. It's good to hear you speak up like that." Claude put his hand on Dedue's shoulder and smiled. The pain in Dedue's face cleared up a little bit. 

"I will prepare the tea," Dedue said.

Within fifteen minutes, the tea was ready. The smell of the chamomile eased Clause's nerves as he measured a tablespoon of his tincture and stirred it into the hot water. It might make it taste different, but Dimitri wasn't going to notice. Dedue brought the teapot and teacups into the infirmary on a tray. 

"Your Highness," he said, making Dimitri sit up in his bed. "Please forgive me for my outburst. I brought some tea to help you relax a little."

"I don't want any tea," Dimitri growled. He grimaced and looked away from Dedue, like a child refusing to eat his vegetables. 

"Please…" Dedue's voice was on the verge of cracking. 

Dimitri's gaze flicked from Dedue to the wall on the far side of the room. He heaved a sigh and settled himself into a comfortable sitting position on the bed. "Bring it here."

Claude released the breath he had been holding for the past minute. Manuela raised an eyebrow at him, and he only winked in response. She shrugged to say 'whatever, I trust you' and took a wooden bucket out of the infirmary. 

Dedue placed the tray on the bedside table and poured a cup for Dimitri, his hands as steady as a well trained steward despite the dubious nature of his actions. Dimitri picked up the cup without thanking him and put it to his lips. Claude held his breath again. 

"Dimitri!" A familiar voice from the hallway made Dimitri's neck spin towards the door like an owl. His tired eyes widened as Byleth charged through the doorway and stopped right at the end of his bed. "Dimitri…" Elation and concern flickered over his face as he scanned Dimitri, noting his miserable state and dour face. 

"Professor." Despite Dimitri's weak acknowledgement, Byleth had a faint smile decorating his face. 

Byleth reached out his hand to greet Dimitri, but he pulled back when he noticed Dimitri's face grow darker as he approached. His smile twitched and faded away, turning into a look of disappointment instead. Dimitri didn't seem to care. 

"May I join you for a cup of tea?" Byleth asked softly. Claude and Dedue glanced at each other nervously. 

"Do what you want," Dimitri muttered. 

Dedue opened his mouth to protest but stopped when Claude shook his head faintly. They were so, so close. If there had to be a little collateral damage, then so be it. 

Byleth poured himself a cup of tea and sat down on the bed opposite Dimitri. "Chamomile," he mused. "I remember this is your favorite."

Dimitri looked down into his teacup and took a sip, breathing in the scent as the hot tea filled his mouth. Claude stared between the two of them, as collected as he would be if the tea were completely normal. The two men sat in silence, each avoiding looking at the other. Byleth was desperate to look up, his gaze moving from his teacup to Dimitri's feet. He looked like he was holding back tears. Ever since the professor started to show emotion more often, he began to wear his heart on his sleeve. It was easy to tell how he was feeling, though his exact thoughts remained an enigma. They sat in silence for what felt like forever, slowly drinking their tea until each of them had finished a cup. There were no visible effects of the poison taking hold. Does that mean it didn’t work? Was it too diluted? Both of them looked as alert as they had been when they started drinking the tea. Granted, they were both gloomy, but they should have felt something at that point. 

The silence was broken by Dimitri setting his teacup down on the tray. He lifted his gaze to the professor, whose posture straightened a little as he noticed Dimitri looking at him. Dimitri’s mouth opened as if he were beginning to speak, but closed almost immediately as he pitched forward. Byleth grabbed his limp body before he could hit the floor.

“Is he okay?!” he asked, pulling Dimitri into a tight embrace to avoid dropping him. Dedue covered his mouth to hide his expression. “What happened?”

“He’s fine,” Claude reassured him. “He just needed something to help him calm down. You… may have drank some of it, too.”

“Ah…” Byleth attempted to lay Dimitri down on his bed. His knees gave out underneath him as he stood up, leaving him slumped over Dimitri. “Ugh, Claude…”

“Sorry, Teach. I would have told you, but then Dimitri would have known.” Claude lifted Byleth off of Dimitri and laid him down in his own bed. “I tested it on myself. There shouldn’t be any adverse effects.”

“I don’t like it…” Byleth groaned, his breathing growing heavy. He grabbed the headboard and tried to pull himself up.

“Hey, hey, calm down! You’re not going to be able to soldier through it. Just lie down.” Claude gently uncurled Byleth’s fingers from the headboard and pushed him down onto the bed. The heavy breathing was concerning. Did Claude experience anything like that before he passed out? That was something he needed to keep an eye on. Whatever adverse effects wouldn’t be seriously harmful, right?

...right?

At that moment, Manuela returned with a wooden bucket full of water. She stopped short when she saw Byleth in one of the beds.

“What happened? Is the Professor hurt?” she said, setting down the bucket and rushing to Byleth’s side. He curled up, groaned, and refused to look at her.

“He’ll be okay. He had some of the same stuff that Dimitri drank, but it doesn’t seem to be working the same way,” Claude sighed. 

“I can see that.” She shook her head. “As long as you’re sure he’ll be okay… Could you two help me get Dimitri undressed?”

Dimitri lay as still and limp as a doll as Dedue removed his armor. Claude stood up but Byleth held fast to his sleeve, staring up at him with lidded eyes. A soft whine was all that escaped him as he tried to speak, and Claude felt a pang of guilt pierce his stomach. He knelt down next to Byleth and grabbed his hand.

“How do you feel?” he whispered.

“Dizzy,” Byleth replied, breathless and exhausted. “Like I’m sleepwalking.”

“Close your eyes and try to sleep, okay? You’ll feel better when you wake up. You probably just had too small of a dose.”

“No,” Byleth gasped. “I don’t want to… I don’t know why, but I’m... I’m scared.”

“Why are you scared?” Claude bit his lip and leaned his face closer to Byleth’s so he wouldn’t have to speak as loudly.

“I feel so weak. I feel like if I fall asleep, I won’t wake up for a long time. Like five years ago.” 

Byleth sucked in a deep breath and squeezed Claude’s hand. His bright green eyes looked dull, like the life had been drained from his body. The only movement from him was the slight tremor through his entire body, running from his feet up to the hand that clung so desperately to Claude. He looked pale, but he had no signs of a fever or chills. It appeared that he was suffering from some kind of unnatural exhaustion. How strange… Dimitri had fallen asleep almost instantly, yet Byleth remained awake in a severely weakened state. Perhaps its effects varied based on Crests, and yet Claude had passed out in the same way Dimitri did. The Professor was an unusual case indeed, having bright green hair and being able to wield the Sword of the Creator. Something fundamental inside of him was being suppressed. Claude hoped that it wouldn’t disable him forever.

He would never be able to forgive himself if that happened.

But no, it would wear off. Byleth’s body would process the poison and he should be just fine in a few hours, and so would Dimitri. 

“You’re going to be fine, Professor. Just relax, okay?” Claude soothed.

“I can’t,” Byleth said. “I’m so tired, I can’t bear to sleep…”

“I know. I promise, you’re going to wake up.” Claude put his other hand on top of Byleth’s head..

“Holy Saints! How long has it been since he’s had a bath?” Manuela exclaimed. Claude turned to see Dimitri stripped down to his underwear. His skin was covered in cuts and bruises. Blood had coagulated into ugly scabs that were surrounded by raw skin. 

“A week and a half,” Dedue said. “We didn’t have time to stop.”

“He’s filthy. We’ll be lucky if he hasn’t already gotten some sort of infection.” Manuela dipped a sponge in the bucket and began to clean the sweat, blood, and dirt that had accumulated on Dimitri’s body. The sponge swiping over him reminded Claude of a dusting cloth going over a bookshelf that hadn’t been cleaned in a very long time. 

A soft tug on his hand drew his attention back to Byleth. 

“Keep talking to me,” Byleth insisted.

“Okay, okay. How do you feel now?”

“The same as before.” Byleth pulled Claude’s hand into his chest and cradled it like a child would hug its stuffed animal. “I don’t know. I feel like… I feel like… a ghost, maybe.”

“Let me feel your heartbeat,” Claude said.

“That doesn’t matter. My heart doesn’t beat.”

“What?!” Claude took off his glove with his teeth and slid his unoccupied hand up Byleth’s shirt. He laid his hand over Byleth’s heart, but he felt nothing. The inside of his chest was eerily still. Claude would have thought he was dead if he hadn’t been so warm. “Teach, that isn’t normal.” What didn’t feel normal was Claude putting his hand up Byleth’s shirt. How unprofessional… Yet it was oddly nice to be able to feel his bare skin.

“It’s normal for me,” Byleth sighed, closing his eyes. “You’re so warm, Claude…”

“I, um…” Claude felt his face heat up as Byleth held his hands close to his chest. Clearly, Byleth was more relaxed with Claude’s hands pressed against him. If they could continue like this, perhaps Byleth would fall asleep. “Should I get in the bed with you?”

What kind of suggestion was that?! It was easier to sit at his bedside and keep him company!

Byleth nodded, and Claude was relieved that he hadn’t been offended. He watched Manuela and Dedue clean Dimitri and heal his wounds. They were so absorbed in their task that they weren’t paying any attention to him and the Professor. With a sigh, Claude removed his boots and wiggled under the covers next to Byleth, who immediately pulled him as close as possible. The heat in Claude’s face reached impossible levels as his Professor nuzzled his face into his chest. He shouldn’t have been embarrassed. More importantly, he shouldn’t have been enjoying it! He was just doing what he needed to do to rectify his mistake. It was his responsibility to help Byleth through the effects of the poison, since it was his fault that he drank it in the first place. 

Still, the feeling of holding someone so close soothed an ache that Claude had buried deep inside of him. His heartbeat sped up and sent his rapidly warming blood to every extremity. He felt like he was being filled from top to bottom with his favorite tea. So much feeling flooded his body that he felt like he could have cried. Instead, he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around his professor, holding him as tight as possible without making him uncomfortable.

“Thanks,” Byleth mumbled, his voice muffled by Claude’s overcoat. 

“No problem, teach. Get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Gradually, Byleth’s breathing slowed from heavy gasps to the soft breaths that let Claude know that he had finally fallen asleep. The sound was so heavenly, so relaxing that Claude couldn’t help but let his breathing match that of Byleth. He thought to himself about how lucky he was to have met this incredible man. Not everyone was blessed to have a teacher- no, a friend as kind and welcoming as he was. In that moment, with Byleth in his arms, Claude knew that he would go to the ends of the earth for him. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to do that because staying in bed together felt like heaven. He wished they could stay like that forever, holding each other close and sharing the warmth of their bodies. He couldn’t be more satisfied, even if someone had told him that the war ended at that very moment. 

_ I’ll always be here for you,  _ Claude thought. He didn’t speak, lest he disturb Byleth. As he drifted off to sleep, one thought repeated itself over and over in his mind:

_ I love you, I love you, I love you… _


End file.
